Freudian Theories
by Chedder
Summary: She didn't want to help them create more monsters but she had no choice. She was only expendable after all.
1. Zombie

The Nurse Who Loved Me

By: Moi! Chedder

Standard Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Hellsing or any lyrics that open up each chapter, just my character. And yes, that name is from A Perfect Circle, you'll understand by the end.

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"Another mother's breakin'. Heart is taking over. When the violence causes silence. We must be mistaken. It's the same old thing since 1916. In your head, in your head they're still fightin'. With their tanks, and their bombs. And their bombs, and their guns. In your head, in your head they are dying." -The Cranberries, Zombie

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Keep still, keep silent, keep hidden.

The words become a mantra in my head. A self inflicted delusional hope of survival by a shivering, terror stricken slip of a girl simply to keep herself sane in an impossibly insane situation.

But hey, what do you expect me to do beside run, hide and hope to what ever god is listening that whatever is following won't find me? Stay and fight possibly? Stand up for myself and not become this horror induced, sobbing wreck that I am now? After what I've just seen?

Not on your life.

Seeing an entire house hold shredded to pieces, having their blood splatter on your gaping face, hearing the painful and terrified screams of the little children you were just babysitting as though it were through water and not air, the sounds of their parents dying drowned out by the sound of your heart pounded in your ears like a giant sub woofer bass booming out a techno beat in some late night club, and all the while that _thing_ looking you dead in the eye.

I felt so inane standing there with the only thought running through my head being 'Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Don't look at me, please god, stop looking at me' over and over again, screaming in my head when my mouth couldn't articulate my hysterics.

Sad isn't it? That fear from just having those eyes on me froze me to the stop and kept me from doing anything, _anything_. There may have been little for me to have done and there was a snow balls chance in hell that I could have saved them but don't you think I could have at least died there with them trying? Die a martyr's death, a heroin death, instead of cowering in this wet, humid sewer like a fucking coward.

It was only after it stopped its macabre dance and the carpet a marsh land of blood and sinew with that bestial creature standing in the middle of it all just looking at me that I found the ability to not only scream but run. It didn't matter where I ran just as long as it was away from that _monster_.

That's how I ended up here in this sewer, sitting at the bottom of a manhole in the middle of the night, on a Canadian military base in South America that I've called home for the past three months, praying to what ever deity that is listening that the beast won't find me. I'm banking on the knowledge that although wolves have a strong sense of smell, hopefully that were-wolf won't catch my scent down here over the reek of sewage and waste.

What I couldn't get through my head and still don't is why it looked at me as it did through out its show. What did it want? Why didn't it kill me? Was it saving me for last? Did it want to take me like a sick trophy in its bloodlust and rape me in that room of red? Did it held some twisted fascination for me? Maybe it was that creepy picture effect? You know the one, where it doesn't matter where you stand the person in the picture still looks like their looking at you. Or was it something else, something…bigger?

Keep still, keep silent, keep hidden. Over and over again like a broken record.

I imagine it barreling down the shaft, coming to finish what it started and leave no possibly witness.

Keep still.

Every sound makes me jump out of my skin and my eyes are constantly darting, trying to chase shadows.

Keep silent.

Please don't find me, please don't find me, please don't find me. Please. Don't. Find. Me.

Keep hidden.

"Found her!"

No.

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A/N: Good God, I'm morbid.

Experiment 


	2. Cornflake Girl

A/N: Thank you guys for the reviews! Much appreciated. I almost feel bad about what I'm going to do to poor, abused Walter in this chapter…almost.

Disclaimer: Put those damned court papers away, I don't own anything in this other then my own character.

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"Say hello to everything you've left behind. It's even more a part of your life now that you can't touch it." -A Perfect Circle, the Nurse Who Loved Me

"This is not really, this, a this, a this is not really happening. You bet your life it is!" -Tori Amos, Cornflake Girl

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Your probably wondering why I'm telling you all this. Well, I guess I just felt I should share it; get it off my chest, you know?

They say talking about your issues is therapeutic and since I didn't really talk much during that period of time that, considering that now it's all over, I'm suffering from a verbal diarrhea of sorts.

Can I really say the ordeal is over now? I mean, in a way, I'm still living it (if you can even call this living). That -this- isn't something that you can just up and one day stuff into a shoe box and shove high into the back of your closet praying it stays there. Life…it just does not work like that, at all.

Living, now that's a laugh. Living is when you can run in the surf's of crashing waves, basking in the sunshine of a hot summer day, or eating lunch with your coworkers or friends at that great little patio restaurant down town.

This isn't living, not even close; this is a prolonged existence long after the fire's brunt out.

The odd bit about this whole thing is that I really couldn't tell you whether or not I'm for the better; if this experience has made me a better person or something else. Do I call myself a monster or a hero? Sorry, heroin. I have killed and killed and killed, but with a valid reason; I wanted to go on existing.

So what would you classify me under? Go on, stick a tag on me; every little bit helps I suppose. Just be prepared to reevaluate your diagnosis in the end.

You sure you want me to keep going? This isn't the most heart warming of stories. No knight on a white horse charging down the alley ways to come to my rescue, no kiss the girl for the hero's trophy, no things going back to the way they were or even better afterwards; this isn't like that at all.

You're sure now? Good, let's begin then.

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I remember when they brought _him_ in. By than I was already one of them, though I was never like them. Well, maybe Rip, she wasn't too bad really when you got to know her, just a bit crazy…okay maybe a lot but she really was a sweet girl.

We both had a love music and sang an awful lot. I think we drove the Doc crazy (even more then he already was) when we would both just start singing out of the blue, sometimes even together.

Besides, I needed someway to express myself after I went silent (up until I started singing they had figured I had gone mute from shock) and it helped to alleviate some…things; kept me calm and hopefully sane, you know?

But I'm getting off topic aren't I? Hmm, you may find I do that a lot. Anyways, I was going to tell you about that day weren't I?

They (the Captain and the Doctor) dragged in this beaten and bloody figure into the medical ward (why they had one I'll never know, it's not like they actually needed it), dropped him on the floor at my feet and told me to clean him up and prep him for the procedure, then curtly left.

I rubbed my hands on my nurses skirt (one of many nervous ticks I had back then) and kneeled down to inspect what they had dragged me this time. I gingerly rolled him on to his back and grimaced when he groaned painfully.

An old man? They want to turn him? I know they were getting desperate for recruits (they turned me didn't they?) but an old, barely breathing man? Not that breathing would matter soon anyways; a blessing of sorts that comes from not being among the living anymore. I wonder how my parents would take that, "Hey Mom and Dad! Guess what? I don't have to worry about running out of air when I'm swimming anymore! Isn't that great?". I can just imagine their expressions now; too bad I probably won't ever get to tell them.

Oh well, no use fretting about who they've grabbed now; might as well just do the best I can for him and hope he doesn't have to suffer too long.

I pick him as gently as the circumstances allow, walk over to the nearest gurney and just as gingerly lain him out. I knew I wasn't going to be able to properly assess the extent of his injuries with all that caked on blood so I grabbed some wipes and disinfectant solution from one of the many cupboards and set about to wiping it off.

But first, the clothes have to come off. I lost all sense of propriety long ago so if he wakes up let's hope he doesn't freak out too much about being naked and bloody with a vampiress hovering over him. It would seem equivalent to throwing chocolate covered women to lesbians. Ha, now that's an interesting thought.

I hum absently some random song (Cornflake Girl I believe) as I worked at his vest and shirt. I finally broke out into full blown singing at the line, "Rabbit! Where'd ya put the keys girl?", as I reached under and tugged his pants up and off. Pretty funny picture eh?

I figured at that point that I'll throw in some decency for once, seeing as he _is_ my elder. I'll leave his undies on. Aren't I nice?

I scoured his skin for lacerations and big gaping wounds. He had a lot of bruising and a couple places where his skin split open from taking a pretty severe beating, a minor bullet wound in his right shoulder but it appeared to have gone completely through so it will only need a few stitches. I didn't see any broken bones but it will be hard to tell with out an x-ray which I sadly don't have access to. Obviously he had a cut on his head somewhere (I hate head wounds, their a bitch to clean and stitch up. They never stop gushing blood even if it's only something as small as a paper cut.) so I had better be getting to that first before he bleeds to death.

I took one of the wipes, pour some disinfectant onto it and began wiping at his blood cakes face. As I went along wiping, randomly smoothing his dark hair out of his face, I began to take notice of his appearance. He may have been only in his early sixties or late fifties judging by the shape he was in. But (judging by the wound patterns) when your fighting Captain Hans, it doesn't matter how good of a shape your in; you're still going to be beaten into a bloody pulp.

But besides that, he was a very dignified individual (despite the black eye and split lip), almost down right hansom you could say.

Oh would you look at that, I had counted my chicks before they hatched; he had a busted nose and a by the looks of it, he may also have a broken jaw. The Captain must have beaten him into submission and then unconsciousness. I wonder why, I mean, this guy couldn't have been crazy enough to pick a fight with him…could he?

Whether or not a person knows the Captain, they have enough sense to know that it's a bad idea to challenge him in a fight; that's just plain crazy. I mean, just look at him. I doubt I could even take him on with help and I'm…well, let's just say we're cut from different cloths and leave it at that for now. Yes yes, I'll explain it all in good time, don't be going ballistic on me now, alright?

It doesn't matter right now, what matters is that I do as I'm told with as little fuss as possible. You probably think this is cowardly but it's only cowardly if you're not trying to live to see them get what they deserve; after that, I couldn't care less about what happens to me. I just want to go down knowing that they went first and then I can smile, really truly smile again. I won't let anything or anyone take that from me, not just yet.

And what I was told to do was clean him up and get him (and, as always, the chip) ready for the procedure so I'll do just that and worry about the how's and why's at a later time.

By now I've finished cleaning off all the blood and am checking for internal bleed (which there probably is) which can be a tricky thing to do with my very limited medical tools in my possession; so most of the time I usually just poke and sniff around. If the patient makes a loud sudden pained sound when I jab a particular area, and there's no broken or fractured bone, then there's something else. Then I'll lean in close, take a big whiff and if there's a smell of either gun powder, a strong scent of freshly shed blood, or metal, then there's an internal wound. Weird, I know, but I never said I had medical training, just some basic first aid (kids can be smart little buggers. I swear, they know every way imaginable to get hurt). I rely mostly on my senses and intuition for these sorts of things.

Shit, I forgot about his head wound. I walked quickly back to the cabinets and grab the needle and twine, then back to the gurney. I set them down next to him, thread the needle and sewn the small gash just below his hair line closed with five stitches. I may not be the most certified of nurses but I can sow a mean stitch. Then I take care of the one above his right eye brow closed and go back to checking for the wounds that I can't see. I had smelled a bit of shed blood just below his ribs so I go into my next test: I smell inside the mouth.

I opened up his mouth, cleaned out any blood inside so it does not screw me up then take another whiff. Again, I received the same result. It was very faint so that means that what ever is bleeding was slowly clogging itself shut, that being a good thing because then I don't have to do an emergency surgery to try and stop him from bleeding to death internally.

With those out of the way, I stitched the gashes up on his legs, cleaned the debris and covered the scrapes and wounds on his body with gauze and antibiotic cream, and then drained some of the blood of the worst bruises with a pan and hot needle.

Now that he's clean and fixed up, I have to put the finishing touches on the Freak chip. Not worrying about blood illnesses (they can't harm me anymore), I prick my finger with the same needle I used on his bruises and let a drop drip into the proper compartment in the chip, twist a few screws, connect a few things, and close it up.

Time now for the programming part. I walk over to the computer and hook up the chip like the Doc' showed me to and follow his instructions with a few…minor alterations on my part. I punch in the chosen phrase and viola, we're done!

Just as I was disconnecting the chip and rolling the chair back from the desk when said Doctor walked in demanding to know if I were finished yet. With a nod of affirmation, he pushes the gurney with the groaning and waking man out of the room. I held open the door for the Doc' to go through unhindered. The strange old man lolled his head to the side and looked up at me blearily and seemed about to say something just as he went through the door.

That was the first, and last time, I ever saw Walter C. Dollneaz's grey eyes.

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A/N: Feed a starving artist, review today.


	3. Crucify

A/N: I just want to remind everyone that this is an M rated story for a reason, so if you are younger then 16 years of age, please do not read on since the contents are directed at a mature audience. Besides, I highly doubt they'd teach you Sigmund Freud's theories on the human psyche in anything lower then grade 11.

I would also like to mention that I write very much like I speak, so my writings may not be the easiest to follow.

Please be forewarned.

Disclaimer: Please don't phone your lawyer! I don't own Hellsing but my own characters. That honor would be best bestowed upon Kohta Hirano.

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"Looking for a savior in these dirty streets. Looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets. I've been raising up my hands, drive another nail in. Where are those angels when you need them?" -Tori Amos, Crucify

"We've got to get in to get out." -Genesis, the Carpet Crawlers

"Why don't you save me…from the ranks of the freaks who suspect they could never love anyone?" Aimee Mann, Save Me

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"Looks like you're going to have a full house tonight, hey?" Roland, a young German-American Freak that was in the marine core before all this, states more then asks after rolling in two more patients into my office. I'm still anxiously waiting for that old man to be brought back, why I have no idea; the chances of his survival are little to none, maybe I just feel bad for the poor bugger. What he is going through right now and will for the next couple of days won't exactly be any fun.

I nod walking from patient to patient, writing down little tidbits He chuckles indulgently at my iron grip on my vocal chords, leaving me near silent as per usual.

"So I suppose that means no chance of dinner later tonight either, hmm?" He wiggles his eye brows suggestively at me leaving me scrambling for a straight face.

It threw me for such a loop that I could only open my eyes wide like saucers. He threw me off even more when he gave a sudden laugh.

"Guess not, your face says it all." Another wiggle of the eye brows with a smirk is directed my way, but this time out of playful banter and not as faux-sexual innuendo.

I quirk my eye brow with my own lopsided smirk in a joking rebuttal.

"Nothing to say? Oh, that's cold. Why are you so mean to me? Don't you love me?" I couldn't help but break out into a grin at his mock, wounded puppy look and duck under his arm when he moved in for a hug. I turned him by his shoulders and playfully shove him towards the door as if to say "Away wit' ye demon! Be gone!".

I gave him a boot in the butt and laughed when he pretended to moan in pain and crumpled to the ground. "Oh! Oh! Oh! My back! Nurse, I think you hurt my back. Could you be any rougher? I pity your patients!" I feign a move to kick his ribs and tap my toe on his shin when he curled up to try and block my attack.

I can't help but grin as I ready myself for another 'attack', which was just another feigned kick.

"Vat ist this all about?" We both scramble to attention at the sudden voice. The Doctor loomed over us, peering through those funny glasses of his.

"Sir! Nothing, sir!" Roland barks out his answer in standard military fashion while both of us try our best to hide our nervousness.

"Vell then, vat are you vaiting for, get to vork. Private, the last patient ist finished. Go und bring him here. Now."

"Sir! Yes, sir!" and with that, Roland sets off at a brisk walk to get what I'm half expecting to be is that old man. Maybe I'll get some answers about why they had grabbed an elderly man like him, no matter what shape he is in, when he gets here...**if** he gets here.

"The Butler hast to be kept under close observation till the chip takes complete effect, ist this understood, Nurse?" I almost forgot that the Doc' was still here. Butler? What kind of title is that? I nod to convey understanding, watch him turn away and walk down the hall.

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When Roland rolls back in minutes later, the mood is much more somber and subdued then before. The head honcho's have a way of doing that around here.

That itching feeling of knowing something before hand climax's without really plateauing when I see a covered figure laying on the gurney Roland pushes in.

I look up at him questioningly and he could only give back a grim expression. Neither of us knew if the gentleman had made it or not; it was very unusual that a patient was covered with a sheet unless pronounced dead but then why send the body here instead of disposing it?

I motion for him to follow me into the adjoining room. This is where all my temporary charges are kept till the chip the Doc implants takes total effect. The usual period is one or two days if the person doesn't fight it too much, but for those that do fight the change can take any number of days; so far the longest anyone has gone was four days.

What is the total effect you say? No, no, I don't mind explaining; it was a good question, I would ask it myself if I were you. Well, to put it quite simply, the total effect that I mentioned before is when their mind is completely overtaken by the chip. They may come to me physically changed after it's implanted, that happens within the first few minutes of it being inserted into the patients brain, but the mental changes can take a while.

It's quite a thing to behold, I'll tell you. I was there once, helping the doctor with a very reluctant patient while the other nurse was busy (the bitch had been with him since world war two apparently), and I had gotten to see the person physically _change_ from a mortal body to that of a vampires. Their flesh smoothes out and takes on a paler tone while the eye teeth (top and bottom) elongate and sharpen, and the eyes change from whatever color they had before to a ruby red hue. I have to say it really is interesting to watch.

But that is only half of what the chip does; the other half is the alteration of the person psyche. What it does is (as far as I can figure) essentially remove the person's conscience. Don't understand? Okay, let me try to explain it like this: have you ever heard of the Freudian theory? No? Hmm, how will I explain this then…oh!

Okay, Sigmund Freud separated the human psyche into three basic sections: the id, the ego, and the super ego.

The id is the part of your mind that regulates all of your most basic drives, such as the need for food, shelter, and most importantly, your sexual urges. The ego stems from you id's relation with the outside world. It deals mostly with your relationships with others such as your family. Now your super ego is the part of you that regulates all of these basic functions and keeps them in check, sort of like a guard dog on your urges you could almost say.

Simplified enough for you? Well let's hope so, I can't help but laugh nervously at myself when I see just how much I've bastardized his theory.

Anyways, what the chip does is that it either represses or completely annihilates the super ego while hooking up their brain to the Major's for controlling purposes

(You shall all be my evil little minions und do my bidding! Go get me my cake! Muahahaha! Okay, that was a bad impression, but you get the idea.).

So, ya, basically, my job is essentially to make sure that they don't go completely berserk during this change and try to kill everyone or loose their minds completely, sounds fun eh? It has its rewards, few and far between but their there…somewhere…really.

I'm rambling again aren't I? Hey, I gave you fair warning. What you did with it was your choice.

Choice.

Life's full of them, much like the choice of lifting up this sheet here and seeing just what lays underneath.

I nod without really looking up when Roland tells me he has to get going. My mind is already too preoccupied with another matter at the moment. Lift the sheet, don't lift the sheet, lift the sheet, don't lift the sheet…Bah! Choices! Always with the choices on the trivial affairs but never the ones you really want the choices in! Much like my turning but that's another matter entirely.

Well, I've delayed this long enough; time to see what lies under door number one! I take an unnecessary breath and hold it (old habits die hard) as I slowly lift the sheet, expecting a bloody and rotting corpse as a sick joke. I wouldn't put it past them to do that to me, to rub into my face that there is no escape from them and that I'm stuck here for as long as they need or want my services. Joy.

I exhale in relief when I see it's not a mangled carcass but in fact a young man, maybe in his late twenties, early thirties, in the death-like sleep that all vampires and freaks alike have. He looks and smells like a much younger version of that older gentleman so I say I have a pretty good guess that their one and the same. Glad to see he made it, you would know right off the bat if he didn't.

"Nurse…?" One of the other patients vies for my attention. I turn to away from a now changed man to another changed man to tend to his needs.

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I have a moment of peace tonight. The new patients are awfully quiet but I'll take my blessings where I find them. So here I am doing just that by playing a game of solitaire at my computer desk. I had somehow managed to scrounge up a pack of cards by begging one of the soldiers to grab it for me while on some random excursion a couple months ago. It comes in handy on long periods of boredom. Which isn't as long as I had previously thought to be tonight seeing as I hear one of my charges coming to in the next room over.

I mentally sighed when I heard him (all of my patients are male tonight) crash to the floor while I stood to go see what's the matter; my guess is that he's either had a really bad nightmare or he's confused and panicked from not knowing where he is. It is also possible that he's delirious, certainly not the first time that's happened.

I cross the room, open the door to the adjoining room and...duck just in time as some miscellaneous object goes sailing over my head. I look up just in time to see that it was that strange old now young man having a kanipshit over something. As he demands to know "where the hell am I", "who the hell are you" and "what did you do to me" and "where the hell are my rings" (who would ask about there rings in this kind of situation?), I dive into a roll to the right to avoid a table aimed at my head then propel myself forward, thrusting my shoulder into his stomach in a flying tackle knocking him to the floor.

I pin his failing arms down over his head while sitting on his thighs effectively restraining him as I force my will onto his frantic mind to try to calm him down. I was a little taken back with just how strong willed he is as our mind parried for dominance but eventually I win over; he must have had dealings with vampires before.

When he finally stops thrashing and screaming his hoarse threats and demands at me, I push his mind to yield and cautiously watch his eyes for any indication of aggression while slowly letting go of his wrists and even slower get up off of him.

I took a step back and sat down his temporary bed and looked at him questioningly while he fumbled for words as he stumbled to his feet; with the adrenaline rush gone, the side effects of turning catch up to him. I gesture with my hand to the fridge, silently asking him if he's thirsty and would he want anything while he looks up at me from his half sitting half propped up by his arms position on the floor.

"Ah...yes…um…" I nodded as I stood back up, "Thank you." I nod again and walk to the medical fridge to retrieve a blood pack for him then back to his bed. It's very hard to get living meals for my charges while being stuck on this zeppelin all the time and it's too much of a hassle to ask one of the soldiers to bring me back someone or something, even something as little as a dog. I've already pushed my luck with that card stunt of mine, but it's not like Alhambra was nice enough to give me a deck when he was still around. I heard that he was used as dog chow a couple weeks ago; enjoy hell, Jackass.

Anyways, the transformation can leave a person very weak and slightly disorientated for a couple days so I pull him down on the bed with me and hold him in a slouched sitting position with one hand while holding the blood pack to his lips with the other. He looked from me to the blood pack in a mix of confusion and then dawning horror.

"No…" I nod yes, "You…" I shook my head as a no; I wasn't the one responsible for this. I will not be held responsible for simply doing my job. "I am a…" I slowly give him a yes nod, not quite sure how he'll take the news, "I can't be…this isn't possible…it's not possible!" I can't help the sorrowful look that crossed my face; I know all too well how he's feeling right now.

A new realization lights his eyes, "You're one of them…" I flinched at his words, "You're with Millennium!" I couldn't suppress the pained look as he jerked violently away from me and stood up, towering over me.

_No, no, you don't understand! I'm like you; I never wanted this either. Please, you have to understand, this wasn't my choice!_ I mentally implore him, but it seems to no avail. He's still standing over me seething rage, his red eyes glinting dangerously in the lamp light. Suddenly he wavers on his feet, he's over exerting himself. I reach for him to pull him back down onto the gurney.

He jerks away from my hands, "No! Don't touch me, filth!"

I slowly bring my arms back down to my sides and sit back down with a wounded expression. This isn't turning out how I had hoped it would; but...what was I exactly hoping for anyways? A companion perhaps? A lover maybe? Or am I looking for a savior?

Ha, fat chance of any of those happening. He can't become a companion to me because in a short while he'll be out of his mind, and someone completely different from the person he is now. Right now he's just afraid so his outburst are not all that surprising, but later, he'll be an unstoppable killing machine with no conscious what so ever. He can't be a lover either because...well...it's not that he's unattractive, far from it actually, it's just that I...oh I don't know, it's just not a good idea right now. And a savior? That's the biggest laugh of all; no one is going to save me now. Who would want to save a damned-to-hell, walking corpse? Very few, I bet, if any.

He's shaking me roughly, fingers digging in harshly in what would have been painful had I been human still. "Answer me, dammit!"

Had he been talking the entire time I was reflecting? He must have been judging by that extremely fierce look of his. This could get nasty.

"I said answer me, Freak!" He was roaring full force into my face, his face so close that all I could see were frightening red orbs.

I advert my eyes off to the side shamefully. I won't deny that I'm a freak of nature now, but he shouldn't be judging me about it when he's one too. Granted, he's different then I am and a lot younger in it then me, but that still no excuse.

I noticed idly that he was leaning rather heavily on my shoulders and looked up from the dust bunny I had been scrutinizing so see him hide the grimace from his visage. The adrenaline is losing its affect again; just a few more moments, that's all it will take.

"What did you do to me?" I shook my head as a no again, patiently waiting for him to wear himself out. He shook me again but this time with less energy. Just a couple more...

"Why won't you tell me…?" His eyes were sliding shut as his knees began to bow beneath him. He was leaning so heavily on me now that it would be easy to toss him on to the bed and physically force him to feed.

He rests his head against my shoulder breathing deeply and evenly; a habit all turned vampires have and quickly shed. I wrap one arm around his shoulders, take his and flop it over my shoulder, then pick him up bridal style with my other arm under his knees. He protests weakly with an animalistic whine from being touched as I set him gently down on his bed. I hear nothing from him after I move my arms out from under him; out like a light.

One of the other men moaned in his sleep and rolled over. He must be having a bad dream.

I go over and lay down beside him, throwing my arm over his side and hugging him to me and he quiets down; nothing new really, just routine as usual.

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A/N: Thanks to SasquatchMaria for your pointers (All will be explained in due time. Gee whiz people, haven't you ever heard of patience? And we've already gone over this, no llamas! Okay fine, maybe I could work it in somewhere.) And thank you Yeth for the cookie. It was a much appreciated cookie, mm mm good. nn

And to HellsingRipVanWinkle as well for your review! Much Appreciated.

I have recently found out that it is very hard to type with a sprained wrist, hence taking my sweet time...ow... I must try to remember to be more graceful when I fall off the stage during choreography.

Now, I am your ever humble praise whore so please, so be a sympathetic reader and review review review!


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